The Philosopher and the Half Blood Prince
by Insecurities
Summary: As a final act to turn the tables in his favour Dumbledore summons a philosopher, hoping for a modern day Socrates. What he gets is a messed up Muggle, a single mum who has a brilliant mind for philosophy but not much else. This story shows how she adjust
1. Chapter 1

Dumbledore sat still at his desk. A serious expression painted underneath his half-mooned glasses and long flowing silver mane. He picked up the stone that rested silently on his desk. The philosopher's stone. After Nicholas Flamel had destroyed the first one Dumbledore had sworn to himself that he would never remove this second one from its hiding place. _There are two types of philosopher's stone, _Dumbledore reminded himself, _and this one may be more lethal than the first. _Gazing at it intensively he watched as the light caught it, flickering the spectrum of colours across the room. Many rays hit the assorted brass objects strewn across the headmaster's office, and fired back a twinkle to Dumbledore's eye. Sighing he placed it back on the desk and reached for the parchment in front of him. It was as blank as any other piece in the school but held the potential of winning the war. He picked up the quill, some of the feathers falling off under the pressure of his firm grip, and jabbed it several times into a pot of ink. Rising it up swiftly to the parchment the ink fell clumsily down, making what should be a perfect incantation, written by the most powerful wizard alive, look like a scrappy piece of first year homework. He slammed the quill down and buried his face into his hands.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he told Fawkes, the only being in his presence, "it's too dangerous, I shouldn't be taking this to such an extreme."

Fawkes lifted into flight, spreading his wings gracefully across the room, swooping in one grand movement to his master. He landed with only a slight patter on Dumbledore's shoulder, rustled his head of golden feathers into Dumbledore's silver mane and cooed gently. Stroking the wise bird Dumbledore found the strength to continue. Methodically and out loud he ran through his reasons for unleashing this powerful weapon.

"There are two types of philosopher's stone: the first having been created by an alchemist in order to turn any matter into any object as well as give it's beholder eternal life; the second being a tool of a philosopher, and only a true philosopher, wise enough to use it in battle. It holds the power to activate any type of philosophy into the world. With this stone the philosopher can do the illogically possible like square a circle or create a triangle with two right angles. Hopefully they can do something to tilt the events of the war in our favour…"

"But…" he sighed and looked up to his familiar with a deeply concerned expression. "The wizarding world hasn't had a true philosopher born since Nicholas Flamel, which means I will have to find a Muggle. This entails exposing the wizarding world, and trusting a stranger with an essential job. Whoever they are they'll have to be introduced to Harry, get along with him, and be able to cope with his adolescent mood swings and excessive worrying. He's never been the same since his godfather died. I don't know why I can't find another way."

With a little nodding movement from Fawkes followed by a soft squawk Dumbledore picked up his pen, only this time he began to write. The words came more easily once in motion, a simple incantation that will call the most able man to him in the next forty-eight hours. It wasn't the best of timing, seeing as the school year was about to commence and the students would all be arriving on the Hogwarts train the next day. Dumbledore chuckled slightly at the thought of his powerful and wise philosopher being a nerd of an eleven year old. 

_Have faith, _he told himself, _you've made it this far. _

"So Miss Immanuartes, this will be your first school out of college?" said Mr Basford, through his small spectacles, whilst twitching his humongous moustache. He had a clipboard in front of him and was leant forward over the desk, staring at Sophie with slight disgust. A lump formed in her throat, gurgling around underneath her tonsils and she felt she would spew it out as soon as she opened her mouth. She reached for a lock of her crazily bushy hair, which she'd futilely tried to tie back in a small bobble. It hung rebelliously in front of her eyes, obscuring the view of her interviewer so all she could see was a blurry outline of what looked like a great big bogey.

"Well yes, although I have done teacher training," she replied, fidgeting in her seat and shuffling her feet that were sweating in her brand new shoes. The lady on the right of Mr Basford raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows, suspended them there for three seconds then lowered them into a frown. Scribbling a couple of words on her clipboard she leant forward also.

"And what interest do you have in teaching religious education? Are you a practising Christian yourself?" she said, smiling widely, which was her form of intimidation.

_Great, _Sophie thought, _What a question! Time to either begin lying or skimming around the truth. Or I could just leave now before the interview gets any worse. _

"I… erm…. Well I… I did my philosophy degree before thinking of teaching and I really want to become a college lecturer in the subject. Philosophy is my main interest and…."

"We don't teach philosophy in this school Miss Immanuartes, only the Catholic doctrine, so we ask you again – Why do you want to become a religious education teacher?" the man to the far right boomed, his oversized belly inflating so that it was pushing the table closer to Sophie.

Sophie grabbed another lock of her hair and furiously pushed it behind her small ear with her sweaty palm. Her eyes bulging and her throat growing dry she nervously scanned her brain for an explanation. 

"Because I need the money!" she squealed, afterwards dreading that she ever spoke the truth. It was true though; she had travelled all the way to London that day just on the off chance of getting the job. The electricity bill had turned red that weekend and little Maggie was beginning school in two days time, Sophie hadn't yet bought all her uniform. Ashamed, she bowed her head to the floor, looking at the much more pleasant sight that was a small piece of chewing gum.

"Is that your only reason?" the woman said in a croaky voice. Sophie looked up at her, in her perfectly pressed linen suit and Christian Dior makeup. She was quivering her thin upper-lip, which created creases that spread across her face. She looked so snobbish, so perfectly content in Sophie's misery. _Stupid cow_, she thought, _just because I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth_. She despised the smug looks these people gave, it reminded her of her own parents and how they had reacted to Sophie's "downfall", as they liked to believe it. Sophie had always believed in equality, she agreed with Marx's view of the class system, that such _have's_, like the interviewers in front of her, used their religious beliefs to oppress the _have not's_. At the time there was no greater _have not_ in England than Sophie, she was on the point of begging for money.

"I need the money to provide for my little girl, I don't want her first term in school to be one of hand-me-down clothes and rotten egg sandwiches," she said, cursing herself afterwards for her blatant truthfulness.

"I see," said Mr Basford, and Sophie could virtually see the cogs in his brain turning, "Where is the father? I see on your CV that you are unmarried, is he not around anymore?" His tone had turned to a sympathetic one, although Sophie was smart enough to understand its falsity.

"He's, well he's…" 

_He's in Harvard University and about to graduate to become a highly paid attorney. _Sophie harshly reminded herself, but she wasn't going to allow him back into her life. She also wasn't going to resort to ringing him up and asking for money. It had been eighteen months since she'd heard from him; he'd probably managed to get another couple of young women up the junction since then! She had her pride, a little bit too much of it, and she believed that the time when women stayed at home was well and truly over.

"To be truthful it really is just me and Maggie, it's best just the two of us," Sophie said out loud, but more to herself than anyone else.

"Clearly!" the snob said, but Sophie could clearly see the irony.

Looking rather tiresome and unamused the fat lump on the far right leant back on his chair, reached one hand up to scratch his balding head, revealing a rather large sweat patch underarm. Sophie tried to hide her disgust. He noticed and leant forward again, boring his eyes into hers so she could see the red veins that sprinkled them.

"Tell me Miss Immanuartes why we should employ you over the more experienced and more dedicated candidates?" he said.

Sophie knew when a question was best left unanswered.

"Mummy, mummy I need a wee wee"

"Just two minutes darling," Sophie said, trying to stop her daughter from ferociously clinging to her leg. She turned to the nursery assistant at the crèche, "Sorry I am late to pick her up, my interview went on longer than I expected. How much do I owe you?"

The old woman, with spindly legs and a spider neck, came over, her cardigan wrapped around her. She peered at Sophie with a disapproving look. "You are half an hour late madam and I've not been able to close the nursery until you arrived. That will be ten pounds, as you kept her here all day, including lunch." The woman said.

Sophie's heart just stopped! She had barely five pounds. Crèche's back in Yorkshire were not half as expensive.

"Mummy I need a wee wee," Maggie whined once again. She looked down at her daughter's dolly blue eyes and outrageously tangled brown hair, her face had turned pink and she was squatting in a position that Sophie knew very well.

"Can she please just go…"

"The security man has already locked up the toilets, we've had a lot of vandalism in there," The woman lectured, "Now I need _my_ money."

For the first time in this dreadful day Sophie was beginning to feel the tears coming, only she knew this woman would feel no pity. Quick on the mark she grabbed a pen and paper from her bag and scribbled her address down.

"Send me a bill to there, I promise you I'm not winding you up but I need the money in my purse to get me and my daughter home tomorrow morning." For a long ten seconds the nursery assistant looked into Sophie's eyes trying to see if her case was genuine. Slowly she nodded.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed and picked her daughter up into her arms whilst hurling a map of the underground out of her bag.

_Just brilliant, _she thought to herself, _I now have the prospect of a night in a grubby B and B; followed by a mad rush in the morning to find King's Cross station; before the train leaves at eleven._


	2. Chapter 2

"Mummy, stop running. I can't keep up with you!"

Sophie turned around and through the crowd of serious looking business men, beggars, tourists and shop assistants she saw a small arm grasp for air. She clutched to it quickly and continued running, trying to frantically get to somewhere in a place filled with people more frantic than herself – King's Cross Station! Looking up at a huge clock face that watched from high above, she realised that it was now five to eleven. The crowd was thick, everyone trying to get home, to work or waiting around anxiously for relatives and loved ones. A teenage girl sprinted energetically out of nowhere and leapt into her boyfriend's arms, blocking the pathway for Sophie and Maggie. Making slurpy noises inches away from Sophie's own flourished face; they obscured any view to the platforms behind. Unable to restrain her temper, Sophie nudged past but accidentally prodded a man in a bowler hat. His briefcase dropped and Maggie clumsily fell over it.

"Arrrrgh, mummy!" she squealed, as blood oozed from her knee. Sophie scooped her up and onto her shoulders while continuing to push through the crowd.

"Oi, you there! Look what your brat did to my papers – they're legal documents they are. I can't give my manager a report that has blood smeared on it. Hey you, I want an answer!" yelled the man, his bowler hat skewed and his face vibrating purple.

Sophie looked around for one second to weigh up the situation; the man advanced toward her with a clenched fist.

"Train to catch, sorry!" she half sang and half yelled; smiling cheekily in hope he wouldn't retaliate. She swerved around and all happiness faded from her features. Her heart pounded not only from the running and the weight of her daughter but also the fear of missing her train and the agony of not having time to nurture her daughter's graze.

Like a voice from God the clock chimed eleven slow aching thuds, confirming to Sophie that she was not going to find the correct platform in time. In one last act of desperation she ran up to a large family of red heads, all looking to be rushing in Sophie's direction. Trying to keep up with them was difficult, they looked determined to catch their train and the only thing stopping them was an extremely large amount of old and tattered trunks. Yet they looked friendly enough to ask, unlike most.

Completely out of breath she finally caught up with the eldest woman and had a split second to register her bizarre attire of a patchwork quilted cardigan and skirt made of multicolored layers.

"Ex-ex-cuse me," she panted, her breath strained and tired. "Where's the train to Huh-Huh…"

"Sshhhhh," hissed the woman. "Not so loud. We must be discreet, can't have _them_ finding out. You mustn't attract attention."

_Attract attention to what?_ Sophie thought. _It's only a train to Huddersfield! But she concluded that the woman was a little eccentric. _

The woman took firm hold of Sophie's arm and pushed her along at a faster pace. Sophie tried to struggle free but the woman was moving too fast. She clung tightly onto Maggie's ankles so that she wasn't bobbing up and down on her shoulders. In a quick glimpse Sophie saw the sign titled "Platform Ten". She was fast approaching it. _Not far now,_ she thought. _We_ _will catch the train._

Then in a sudden moment of darkness Sophie felt like she was being sucked into somewhere, lead by this weird woman. She rubbed her eyes several times and saw swirling patterns of colour form around her vision. She shook her head realizing that she was feeling queasy from exhaustion. Determined to sit down and rest Sophie boarded the train. She vaguely noticed it's shape and she forgot to check to see if it was the correct one. Squealing adolescents were hurtling up and down the aisles. They were all in clothes that were nearly as strange as the woman's. She slumped into an old style compartment and slid the door closed, without any further curiosity toward her fellow passengers.

"Mummy we are on a steam train," yelled Maggie, clapping her hands together and giggling with anticipation.

"Don't be silly Maggie, this is just a slightly older train with compartments, but no doubt someone else will want the opposite seat so come here and sit next to me." Sophie motioned Maggie to sit next to her but Maggie persisted on having the window seat.

With a loud churning noise and a great jerk the train was in motion. Sophie's face blanched as she recognized the wispy clouds created by steam. Her daughter was right! If she hadn't been so tired maybe Sophie would have thought longer on the issue, but her eyelids began to droop down and her mind's ability to concentrate grew rapidly weak.

"Mummy what about my knee?" came a faint voice from the distance. Sophie forced herself awake. She looked down at the messy stain on Maggie's leg; the cut itself had stopped bleeding and was beginning to scab over.

"Is it hurting still?" she asked, guessing the wound looked worse than it felt.

"Not really but don't you have a plaster?" Maggie insisted.

"No honey, you're just going to have to bear with it. We'll be home soon, try and sleep." With these comforting words Sophie huddled her daughter closer to her and let herself break free from the shackles of physical existence. She fell asleep almost instantly.

Deep in Sophie's subconscious echoing voices could be heard; they were faint and distant but distinctly child-like. Laughter and giggles brought images of ice creams and playground swings to Sophie's mind juxtaposed together along with other childhood archetypes and all the while the sensation of being pulled along somewhere in motion. One image, a bouncing brown frog, became prominent in Sophie's mind, along with the desire for chocolate. The voices gradually became calmer. The children were no longer shrieking and squealing at each other, like on a high. Now their conversations became understandable, almost realistic inside of Sophie's dream, although their dialogue made no sense.

"She doesn't look much like a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," chimed one voice.

"Neither did Umbridge," replied another in a slightly aggressive manner. "Then again, what did she ever teach us?"

"I don't think she's a teacher at all," said an older, more mature voice. "I think she's a Muggle. Look at this little kid, no students are allowed under eleven at Hogwarts and she's certainly not eleven yet."

"She's got blood all over her knee. Why has her mum not fixed it yet?" said a shrilly voice. Sophie saw in her mind bright eyes and messy curls of ginger hair staring directly at her. The image vanished and was replaced by dozens of bouncing jelly beans of many different colours.

"Well that proves she's not a witch! Even I can fix a small cut like that one," sounded the shrilly little voice. Shuffling was heard and then Sophie saw a stick point right at her, a long vertical one that begun to glow at the tip making her shudder in her sleep.

"They're it all fixed," gleamed the bossy voice.

"You're not supposed to use magic out of school!" lectured the mature voice and Sophie saw a strong hand grasp the wooden stick and yank it out of her view. Her mind began to spin again and everything went out of focus. For a while the voices were distorted, like whispers etching into the back of her brain.

"What's going on in here?" boomed a voice and a sliver of silver slipped through Sophie's mind like a serpent. Panicky pleas could be heard from the younger children.

"We're not doing anything Malfoy, so butt out," yelled one of them with venom.

"Don't you dare be insolent to me!" said the serpent in Sophie's mind. "I'm a prefect and you are just a Gryffindor mudblood."

Horror filled Sophie's mind as she envisioned a pile of burgundy coloured dung. A sharp snap of a door closing was heard and then the children's voices rose in negative energy.

"Heard the rumours? His father is in Azkaban!"

"Yes, I always knew that he was working for You-Know-Who. My parents say he's been trying to get top-secret information from the Ministry. No doubt Draco will continue along the same lines."

"He's a Slytherin after all!"

"Anyway guys its time to get changed into our school robes, let's leave the Muggles in peace." With this Sophie heard thumping, like a herd of elephants were getting up and trudging away from her, followed by another sharp click of the compartment door. This sudden noise was the thing that snapped her back to reality. Once she had awoke, and realised she was on a train, all traces of the children were gone.

Hogwarts, Slytherin, Muggles, Mudbloods, Gryffindors and Azkaban! Sophie knew she had a wild imagination, but this was too extreme. She needed to get a grip on herself – wake up and realise she had no way of paying the electricity bill. She could no longer waste time, like when she was a child, daydreaming of lands far away and big medieval castles. With this reminiscence she looked down at her young daughter who was still sleeping on her lap. Out of the window all Sophie could see were miles and miles of overgrown fields that were rich in green and wildlife. She had no reason to assume this wasn't the correct way; all train journeys looked the same to her. The only thing that truly puzzled her was the old fashioned manner in which she was travelling.

An hour passed and then suddenly the train began to slow down. Sophie jerked her head up attentively, looking out the window for the landmarks of her hometown. This was the first moment when she began to register alarm and wonder if it was possible that she had boarded the wrong train. An ache in her stomach formed when she realised that this diversely rural area, which she had been transported to, was certainly not in Yorkshire. Even the famous moors were trimmed back and controlled by the National Trust. The wildness of this place reminded her of the very north of Scotland, where she had visited only once before. It dawned on her: she was miles from home with no money or transport back. She cursed herself for being so dotty and disorganised at the station and began to assemble her belongings. Maggie stirred, rubbing her eyes and yawning feebly.

This was when she noticed it. Firstly Sophie thought her eyes were deceiving her. Maggie's knee, that had a few hours ago had been so gruesomely bloody, was immaculately untouched. The soft texture was so pristine that it appeared no harm had begotten of it. Again, she thought she had imagined things, or maybe Maggie's fall had just been a part of her dream. Skeptical of accepting the unacceptable, she tried to push it out of her mind.

"Look mum - my knee is better. Did the fairies come and mend it?" said Maggie pointing enthusiastically at her knee. Sophie shuddered to think that this was a reasonable explanation whilst having a vague sense of déjà vu regarding a long wooden twig and a girl with ginger hair.

Before Sophie could ponder the matter further the train came to an abrupt halt. Sophie could see through the compartment window a smudge of people dashing in one direction – to the door. Anxious to leave the train and inform someone of her mistake, Sophie picked up Maggie and cautiously entered the corridor.

"Oi, missus, out of the way!" shouted a boy behind her. She moved and he roughly pushed past. For the second time, Sophie believed her eyes were deceiving her - the boy was wearing a long black tailored cloak. In fact dozens of teenagers were wearing this formal type of uniform. _Must be some type of specialist boarding school,_ Sophie assumed.

The Platform was even more confusing. A plaque informed her she was in a place named "Hogsmeade", which gave her no indication at all on her actual whereabouts. Sighing she searched for someone who could possibly help her. The only answer came from a giant of a man wearing a dirty moleskin jacket with an excessively overgrown mane of hair. He was ordering the students into straight lines, waving his frying pan sized hands in long sweeping movements.

"Where are we mummy? I want to go home," whined Maggie, as she clutched onto a section of Sophie's mousy brown hair.

But before she could answer a skeletal hand grasped Sophie's shoulder and swung her around. Sophie looked into the sunken face and bulging eyes that were aggressively usurping her space. Her first impression was of a book character – Joseph the housekeeper in _Wuthering Heights_. This man had a frail frame and lanky brown hair. He wore old working clothes comprising of many shades of brown. These maddening features made Maggie immediately curl into Sophie's mass of hair and whimper.

"What are you doing here you silly girl," groaned the man, clenching his fist and quivering with anxiety.

"I'm really sorry, sir. I caught the wrong train and I've no way of getting home. I would have departed at an earlier stop but I must have missed them all," Sophie frantically tried to explain.

"You don't stop once you're on the Hogwarts train," he bellowed. "But you shouldn't been on it in the first place, castle's meant to be protected from your kind."

Sophie looked at him completely flabbergasted. Her eyes grew wide with fear and her daughter was now tense in her arms. This had to be the worst muddle she'd ever made.

"You can take the train back to London on its return trip if you get back on it now," yelled the wicked man.

"Actually Argus that won't be necessary. I have been quite expecting this young lady's arrival," said a smooth and assured voice from behind her.

Sophie turned, not knowing quite what to expect next, dread pulsing through her veins. The image of the man in front of her confirmed something that she had not believed in since she was about Maggie's age – wizards do exist!


	3. Chapter 3

Sophie stood for thirty seconds doing nothing but stutter and stammer, mouth agape and eyes wide, trying to digest the hallucination in front of her. It must be a hallucination because no men in the twenty-first century dress in blue silk robes with a long pointy hat decorated with elaborate moon and star embroidery. No one realistically has a silver beard that reaches down to their knees. No man in England has hair that long. It must be a wig and a costume of some sort, possibly to amuse the students. As Sophie looked around, however, no students appeared to be showing any great amount of amusement or shock towards this mans appearance.

"Merlin," Sophie pronounced eventually, as this was the name that popped immediately to her mind.

"Oh not quite, young lady, although I find it quite a compliment that you associate me with the greatest wizard of all time," spoke the wizard in a light humorous tone. The strange thing to Sophie was, despite his lack of seriousness toward the issue, his composure suggested that he was telling the truth.

"Sorry," she said apologetically, as this was the only word she could find. The feeling of awe was filling up inside of her and she genuinely felt apologetic for her ignorance.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. In truth, it is I who should apologize to you, as I am the one who has brought you here quite recklessly and unfairly. No doubt you've had a troublesome journey and considering your duties towards being a mother I should have taken much more care with bringing you into our world." He had a cheeky smile on his face and stretched out his hand. Sophie accepted it, shaking it in slow graceful movements, predicting that much wisdom is inside this man. Maggie stirred for the first time and looked in amazement at the wizard, reaching out a little finger to touch his long silver mane. Dumbledore allowed her to do this with a welcoming expression on his face.

"Our world?" Sophie finally questioned. She suddenly felt like Dorothy in _The Wizard of Oz_, a long way from Kansas.

"Yes," he replied, "The Magical world. I am sure you have at some point in your life encountered magic. As a child you do many times, as you can see this little girl is far more trusting of it than you as an adult. Growing older you often lose all traces of magic and come mid-teens you have pushed away its existence and regarded it as myth. I do not blame you for doing this, madam, as many Muggles follow this trend."

"Muggles?" Sophie had heard the term used before.

"Yes, non-magical people. You are either born with the gift to perform magic or you aren't. I'm afraid that you fall under the latter category. Normally the Muggle world is separated from the Magic world, but they do occasionally interact, and sometimes it is necessary for magic to be exposed."

All this was very difficult for Sophie to digest; her head began to spin with the idea of an alternative universe made up of different people doing strange things like turning enemies into toads. She thought of all the children's books she read as a child and wondered, with slight horror, whether some of it was true.

"Please don't burden yourself with the technicalities of magic. Just understand that now this world has been opened up to you it will never again be closed. We haven't yet been properly introduced. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, and you are?"

This sudden arrival of formalities threw Sophie off guard. She was unable to keep a grip over herself, her mind still puzzling over the existence of magic. Dumbledore waited patiently.

"Oh-oh. Well I-I'm Sophie Immanuartes and this is my daughter Maggie," she eventually said, after snapping back to the conversation.

"I see," replied Dumbledore with great understanding of her situation, "Well, there is no point in standing at the platform all night. We will take one of these carriages up to the castle where a meal and hot drink will be provided for you both."

Sophie boarded one of the carriages, placing Maggie on her knee. They both waited anxiously for the arrival of a horse but none looked to be in sight. Once Dumbledore had boarded and made himself comfortable the carriage suddenly sprang into motion. The breath left Sophie immediately. How is it moving? She calmed herself down by reminding herself that in modern day such devices can be made using electricity as to not cause harmful pollution or excess noise. Yet she could almost hear the sound of trotting hooves and the carriage bobbing up and down with a horse's rhythm.

"Isn't magic grand?" asked Dumbledore. Sophie turned around to answer but realized that he was in fact addressing Maggie, who was giggling innocently and nodding. Then suddenly she let out a high pitched squeal. Sophie panicked and clutched onto her, wondering what had caused her sudden alarm, fear rising inside. Then she noticed Maggie was pointing at a building, but not just any building, a vastly grand old gothic castle with high-reaching turrets and extravagant stain-glassed windows. It was the largest castle Sophie had ever seen and the architecture greatly amazed her. A wide-reaching lake swept around it, glimmering in beautiful moonlight. Sophie was sure that only such places were imaginary.

"It's Sleeping Beauty's castle," exclaimed Maggie, referring to her favourite Disney story. Sophie could see through the awestruck expression a tale being created in Maggie's mind, of a beautiful princess trapped in a tower and a noble prince coming to the rescue.

"Wait till you enter, Miss Immanuartes, I'm sure you will find the castle quite amazing," Dumbledore said confidently. Sophie knew that even if it was nothing but bare walls and moth-eaten tapestries inside; the place would nonetheless be perfect. Sophie loved to live in her dreams and in front of her the dream was manifested.

In barely any time at all Sophie found herself dismounting the carriage and climbing up stone steps to the great oak door entrance. She tried to get Maggie to be still but she skipped up and down the steps with great enthusiasm. Sophie, however, walked up sluggishly, her mind apprehensive.

"You mustn't be afraid Sophie. All the students will be in the Great Hall and I will be expected to make an appearance there soon to give my annual welcoming speech. However, at present the deputy headmistress is doing the Sorting Ceremony so I can offer up an hour of my time to run you through the next course of action." With this he opened the great doors.

Sophie didn't know how but the bolts appeared to just pull away. The door crept open majestically. Looking inside Sophie nearly fainted with astonishment. Her mind simply couldn't digest each magical happening that was occurring in front of her eyes. Moving paintings; great sculptures that appeared to occasionally change position; stair cases that randomly changed landings and a strange cackling circular object whizzed over her head, which looked slightly like a demented Frisbee. Maggie simply accepted it all, delighted with every little thing, whereas Sophie continually tried to justify everything logically. After about her fiftieth attempt she had to accept that the only explanations she will find, would be metaphysical.

After what felt like forever winding up and up the many staircases, thankfully all stationary, Dumbledore came to an abrupt halt in front of a great gold sculpture of a bird. Sophie braced herself, expecting the blasted thing to begin squawking. It never did, instead it began to spin around and reveal yet another stupid stairway.

"I guess you lot don't ever have to go to the gym. You have all the exercise you need just trying to get from A to B," Sophie joked whilst rubbing her sore feet. She had to admit that she'd become rather podgy in recent years and the idea of having to travel a mile in the morning just to get down to breakfast didn't sound in the slightest bit appealing.

Dumbledore's office was just as bizarre to Sophie as any other place, yet she expected no less. She sat down on one of the armchairs, Maggie sitting on one another beside her. Dumbledore reached into his desk draw and pulled out a silver tray, on it sat a familiar sight to Sophie – a variety of Basset's Liquorice All Sorts. Dumbledore chuckled and offered the plate to Maggie first, who picked up several with a cheeky smile.

"Ah – she has a sweet tooth like me," said Dumbledore whilst popping not one but ten sweets into his mouth. His expression, once swallowed, suddenly became business like: "Now, regarding your stay here. I would like to offer you a place as a Professor here at Hogwarts and should you accept it you will become a member of our faculty and remain bordered here until the summer, excluding Christmas and Easter holidays. Considering I have only just met you I am placing great trust in the good nature you have already displayed to me. However I would like to know what your plans in life were to be prior to your visit here today?"

Sophie hesitated for a long while, knowing not what to say in response. She hadn't really had any plans other than becoming a teacher and desperately attempting to make ends meet. Eventually she answered honestly: "I want to become a philosophy lecturer eventually but I need some money before I can take my doctorate."

Dumbledore's face formed a smile: "I see. I wondered whether you'd mention philosophy at all. I was hoping you would have an interest in the subject as it is the reason you are here today. You're staying here, if you should choose to accept, is on the condition that you will help me complete a task by using a magical instrument that only a certain type of person can use…"

"I don't think I'll be able to use whatever it is your thinking of. I'm not special in any way." Sophie cut Dumbledore off. She was starting to feel disillusioned, like Dumbledore had chosen the wrong person and is going to send her on her way once he realizes. She wasn't special, she was a mess. Her life was made up of many badly made choices, one of which being this.

"You wouldn't be here otherwise. I have confidence in you, Sophie, so please have some in yourself. I need you to trust me or else none of this is going to work. I don't want to inform you of the task tonight, as we are both too tired and Maggie is looking impatient." Sophie turned to see Maggie, who had picked up one of the many brass instruments and was banging it against the desk.

"So, what next?" she asked.

"I want you to teach here. I think it will do you some good to teach magical students, as they are more difficult than the average and it will set you in good stead for becoming a lecturer. I will timetable your lessons into their schedule for twice a week, excluding the sixth and seventh years, who it will be optional for."

"Teach?" Sophie uttered, "Teach what exactly?"

"Philosophy, of course! Well unless you want to teach them something mundane about Muggle life. I think philosophy is a discipline useful to both worlds."

"You want me to teach philosophy? What type? Do I have a curriculum?" Sophie asked, still trying to get her head around the idea of being able to fulfill yet another one of her dreams.

"No curriculum. I've just added the subject to the course. I'm sure the Ministry will be none too happy but it will serve them good to compromise. I'm allowing you to teach any topic you feel fit, bearing in mind you'll be teaching age groups from eleven to sixteen, and as long as I see them making reasonable progress I will not intervene in your work."

"Seriously?" Sophie asked; feeling like there must be a contract to sign; a trail period and a supervisor for the first two months with targets to be met on teaching standards each week.

"I am not as harsh with my staff as the Muggle Education Authorities are with new teachers. I don't doubt you will do a good job. I will give you two weeks to plan your lessons for the course of the year, I hope you will use this time wisely, allowing yourself to get accustomed with our way of living."

At this point Sophie looked over to Maggie who was still playing with the instruments. She was making pretend characters out of each and forcing them to interact. It dawned on her that Maggie may have to go home, this isn't a place for a young child and there are no primary schools in the local area. Maybe Dumbledore will suggest Maggie live with her grandparents or move to America with her father. Sophie shook her head bitterly, knowing she would not allow that. She would choose to sacrifice this brilliant career opportunity to stay with her daughter.

"I perfectly understand Sophie that you and Maggie are inseparable," Dumbledore said in nothing more than a whisper. "That is why I am willing to let her stay, although she'll be the youngest here by far. Adjoining your chambers I will set up a nursery for her and assign two of our house-elves to watch over her. You will find the two house-elves very willing to help Maggie and very able in looking after her while you are working. I will instruct them to assign a couple of hours a day toward teaching Maggie basic arithmetic and reading skills. No doubt you'll want to spend time doing that yourself but I want to provide the service so that you do not feel she is missing any part of her education."

Sophie's expression was still one of worry though: "What if she doesn't agree with these… what you call them…. House-elves?"

"I'm very rarely wrong, Sophie, as you will soon discover and I can confidently say that the two house-elves I have in mind will take to Maggie like a duck to water." With this he chuckled slightly and added, "They will soon be best of friends."

He rose up swiftly and picked up a rather complicated device from a shelf that Maggie was about to grab. She gave him a look of annoyance that soon faded when he offered some more Liquorice All Sorts. She took as many as her little hand could grasp.

"Now Sophie, I hope you will understand that my presence is needed elsewhere. Follow me and I will show you to your chamber, which I'm afraid to say is quite a walk away from the Great Hall and breakfast."

"Bu-bu-but I need some clothes and stuff," Sophie stammered, realizing neither she nor Maggie had anything clean.

"Not to worry," Dumbledore dismissed, "Tomorrow I will have one of our Professor's escort you to Diagon Alley."

Sophie didn't want to know what this trip may entail; she was expecting to wake up the next morning discovering it had all been a dream. One thing was becoming apparent though; she realized as she walked down the great corridors and pathways, her life had rapidly changed that day. Somewhere there was someone who had given her a new chance at life.

Chapter 4 is in the making. I hope you are enjoying the fan fiction so far. Please feel free to review.


	4. Chapter 4

Sophie gazed around the room with wonderment. Every corner, every inch, every detail amazed her. I I can't believe I live here, /I she exclaimed to herself. This was a bedroom designed for royalty: the four-poster bed with rich crimson drapes; walls of bookcases made of deep mahogany; an en-suite bathroom with a Jacuzzi the size of a swimming pool; life-sized paintings that looked positively life-like. And of course, most importantly, the magic. She was still dreaming, maybe she had finally become delusional, as none of this made any sense. Strangely enough though, it felt real at the same time as being make-belief. She could feel the satin sheets of the bed; taste the delicious pancakes and syrup breakfast and feel the cool breeze that was flowing through the large window. Sophie sat on the stone window-ledge and gazed out. She watched the morning sunshine fall delicately down onto the glass surface of the lake. I This is unreal, /I she concluded.

She decided to test fate, by moving into the adjacent room to hers. The atmosphere filled her as soon as she entered, an atmosphere of joy and fun. This slightly smaller room had been fully converted into a nursery overnight. Maggie's bed stood next to the far wall, half of it covered with beanbags and teddy bears. A dolls house, with moving characters, stood in one corner, as Sophie moved closer to it she realised it was a miniature model of Hogwarts. Their were also I Early Learning /I books scattered here, there and everywhere; Sophie realised there were enough to cover most of Maggie's primary education. The most gorgeous feature, Sophie realised though, was a large painting covering almost the whole of one wall. It hosted a beautiful snow scene, the snow flaking down softly from a velvet blue sky whilst underneath it children skated on ice, in Victorian style pinafores and bonnets. Occasionally, one child would fall over and another would help them up; little giggles emanating softly. I Why have I been blessed with such luck? /I Sophie asked, to no one in particular.

"No please, Winky say you not allowed to bounce on the bed!" squeaked a strange creature that was about Maggie's height. It had long floppy ears and a large nose, wearing many different knitted clothes: bobble hats, socks, and miniature jumpers.

"But Dobby say that Maggie only wants to have fun!" argued back another one of these strange creatures. His eyes then grew wide when he saw Sophie. "Oh Miss Immanuartes, such a pleasure to see you. Come in, come in."

Both house-elves rushed over to Sophie, grinning attentively. Winky spoke next: "I hope you like the nursery, it was the best we could do in such short notice. The dolls house was made by one of the four founders, Helga Hufflepuff. Dumbledore say that Maggie will like it. He also say that you should not worry and that you have got to go to Diagon Alley."

Sophie was reminded that, whilst tired and groggy last night, she had insisted on going on a shopping spree. Now she was reluctant to leave, just in case the castle would vanish as soon as she looked away.

"Dobby and Winky can be well trusted to look after Maggie. After breakfast we are going to teach her the alphabet." Dobby motioned over to a large chart of letters, when he pointed to a letter a voice boomed out in response, pronouncing the letter perfectly.

"You managed to find all of this in just one night? Why, that is impossible," Sophie squealed.

"Yes Miss Immanuartes," Dobby beamed enthusiastically. "We just used the Room of Requirements. Dobby know about that place from when…"

"Winky not want Dobby to tell," Winky interrupted defiantly. Sophie decided not to press the issue.

At that moment there was a loud knock on the door.

"Have you not digested anything I have said to you in the past five days?" a soft but deadly voice ushered from the other side of Sophie's door.

"I have Severus. I have thought on it more than you think. However, nothing can be done to reverse the vow you took, nor can we do anything about it at this time. Now, please Severus, remember that this young lady has only just been introduced to our way of life and…"

"Isn't this a job for someone like Minerva? Or what about one of those Auror's that have been lurking around the castle, doing bugger all. Nymphadora could do with some retail therapy no doubt, her face at breakfast today turned Pumpkin Juice sour."

"Tonks has been placed here at Hogwarts by the Ministry, it is not my right to remove her, or else I may have asked her. No doubt her and Sophie would make quite a compatible pair. I've asked you, however, because your lessons do not begin till this afternoon and the idea of you moping around the dungeons contemplating your own demise is enough to send all Pumpkin Juice sour." Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses at the man he had grown to respect, despite many telling him he should do the contrary.

"As you have brought the topic of lessons forward; I would like to ask why, at this most vital point, have you permitted me the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts? It does look to be rather damning, considering recent circumstances." Snape raised one eyebrow; his lips pursed tightly together and gestured for Dumbledore to answer.

"I won't lie to you Severus; in my heart of hearts I believe you will not last the year at Hogwarts. Your allegiance to Voldemort is demanding too much of you and your role as spy has become too strained. I need someone in that cursed post who I can undoubtedly trust; not some crackpot from the Ministry; nor someone disguised as a an eccentric. I need you Severus, because for the past eighteen years I have trusted you." Dumbledore's eyes darken and for thirty seconds they both look at each other with great remorse. The twinkle returns and Dumbledore merrily says: "Now please, let's not keep this young lady waiting. Live for today, Severus, and tomorrow may never come."

With these words of wisdom Dumbledore left, smiling inwardly to himself for his own ingenious plan. I Sophie needs to know that not everything in magic is wonderful, /I he reasoned, I Severus needs to regain his faith in those who are purely good. /I This way Dumbledore was killing two birds with one stone.

Sophie ran up and down, flapping her hands around and fidgeting with the loose strands of her hair. She hadn't expected to leave so early, she had barely had chance to get herself ready. She looked in the mirror with horror, her face was flourished and her clothes were skewed around at awkward angles. Her belly was drooping out from under her t-shirt and she could feel the button of her jeans preparing to give way. She was disgraced at the idea of opening the door to some handsome wizard, well groomed with a flattering smile, whilst she looked such a mess.

Another knock on the door forced her to accept the way she looked. She opened it with great reluctance.

The image in front of her destroyed her fantasy of a charming young wizard. Snape stood firm to the ground, his mass of slimy hair smothering his sallow face. The only feature that could be seen from underneath the blackness was a hooked nose, launching out at Sophie with determination.

"My name is Professor Snape. I am the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher here at Hogwarts," he uttered in a cold whisper. "I will be escorting you to Diagon Alley."

Sophie only caught some of the words he spoke. In an attempt to make friendly conversion she replied, "I am Sophie. You teach art, did you say? I am fascinated by the work of the Renaissance Period, especially the dark secrets of Da Vinci's paintings."

Sophie waited for a show of enthusiasm but didn't receive it. Instead Snape swept into her bedroom, heading for the fireplace. "We will be travelling by Floo Powder to Diagon Alley."

"The only exit from my chambers is through this way, Professor. The door next to the fireplace leads to my bathroom. Please do not go in there."

Snape stretched out a hand, containing snagged nails on slender long fingers. His skin was so pale Sophie could see the veins underneath, twisting around the skeletal hand like electric-blue wires. She felt repulsed at accepting it. He lifted her into the fireplace in one swift movement; he was surprisingly strong considering his skinny frame. "Diagon Alley," he instructed in a clear voice.

Sophie had not felt such an amazing sensation since the last time she had been at a theme park. Many images whirled around: living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms and places she couldn't define. The sensation stopped as abruptly as it began. Unable to comprehend it all, Sophie flopped to the ground.

"Wh…Wha…What ju-just happened?" Sophie asked. Her head was still swimming and she was completely unaware of her surroundings. Cruel laughter could be heard from nearby men, wicked and hoarse voices. She embarrassingly realised that she was sprawled across the floor of an old English pub.

"We have just been transported to the Leaky Cauldron in London. Could you please stop wiping the floor with your hair, we need to get going," Snape snarled. He reached out his hand; she grabbed hold of it tightly, and lifted herself up with a scowl on her face. "Please Miss Immanuartes, save your frown for someone who cares."

He marched off towards the back entrance of the pub. Sophie didn't bother to follow; she just looked around at the grubby men who were drinking from huge mugs, froth spilling onto the old wooden tables. One of them lifted his mug up, smiling with a smashed set of rotten teeth.

"Miss Immanuartes, please hurry up," shouted Snape from the door, impatiently. She followed, scraping her feet across the floor.

Outside all Sophie could see was a few old beer crates, a sleeping cat and a brick wall. Snape walked up to the wall, raising his wand and tapping individual bricks.

"Looks like a dead end, sir. I don't think tapping on it will do any good," Sophie said sarcastically, trying to get back at him for his earlier comments. As what normally happened when Sophie tried to fight back against someone; she was left feeling like a complete fool. The wall sprung to life, each brick sliding away to reveal a pathway into another street.

Sophie forgot her humiliation the minute she saw the street. It reminded her of an old Victorian street painting: the cobbled road; the architecture of the little shops; the women with long cotton dresses and bonnets holding shopping baskets; and the children chasing one another in and out the little alleyways. Infatuated Sophie began to stroll around, paying no attention to her direction. She headed up to the nearest shop window. To her astonishment the display was filled with broomsticks of many different styles. One of which, the "Firebolt", was attracting the attention of many passing by. A sign advertised "Quidditch Supplies"; Sophie began to wonder whether they were used for flying. It sounded obscure and quite cliché, but reading about this popular "sport" made it look quite probable.

Sophie felt a tug on her arm, Snape was pulling her away. He gave her a grave look and said, "Firstly you need some robes, so that you can fit in a little better around Hogwarts. Come this way." He strode off to a nearby shop named _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. _

The robes Sophie felt obliged to buy from _Madam Malkin's _didn't suit her at all. She decided to ask whether or not she could go into Muggle London and pick up something she felt more comfortable in. Before she did, however, she was attracted to another shop in Diagon Alley. This shop seemed to defy the Victorian atmosphere of the rest of the street. It used bright and bold colours to pronounce its name - _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezers._ Everything flashed and sparkled in weird ways, nothing was co-ordinated. An enormous poster confronted Sophie, blazing yellow on purple.

_Why are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?_

_You SHOULD Be Worrying About_

_U-NO-POO –_

_The Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!_

Sophie stopped, dumbfounded! _You-Know-Who? Who is this person I am supposed to know about? _She decided it was best not to ask her grumpy escort. Curiosity took over and she decided to enter this strange shop.

"Miss Immanuartes, we really do not have time to be visiting immature joke shops, run by a couple of…"

"A couple of what, Professor Snape? Dim-wits, trouble-makers or hooligans? Just to name a few of the things you used to call us," said a young cheery man. Sophie thought she recognised him, with his floppy ginger hair and show-biz outfit. He stared back at her and asked, "weren't you the one my mum dragged onto the train?"

Sophie nodded. "Yes, please tell her thank you very much for helping me put my life back on track." She then blushed, realising the young shopkeeper knew nothing about what she was saying. "Anyway, pleased to meet you; my name is Sophie." She stretched out her hand.

"I am Mr Fred Weasley, and this handsome man here," he grabbed someone from behind a curtain, "is my brother George. Now, what can we do for you? Have you not got your little girl with you?"

Sophie shook her head. "She's back at Hogwarts; she's being looked after by two elves. I haven't come in here for anything specific but," Sophie gazed around at the many displays, "I'm sure I can find something for Maggie."

She sorted through the many bizarre items, looking over occasionally for approval of the two brothers. She had forgotten about Snape entirely. Eventually she chose a jar of sweets. "Are these normal sweets? Or will they explode in my mouth like the ones over on that rack would?"

George came bouncing over to her. "Well Sophie, we decided that Bertie Bott's made a critical error with his Every Flavour Beans."

"You have to tediously eat every bean until you find the flavour you want," chimed Fred.

"So we decided, why not have every flavour in every bean? Each sweet in that jar contains no less than twenty flavours, changing every five seconds to something different." George showed Sophie the list of flavours.

"But," Fred continued. "You can pick either a jar that includes nasty flavours, to trick someone you don't like." He made a small gesture over to his old professor, who stood sulking in the corner.

"Or you could get the safe flavour jar for yourself or someone you want to impress," George finished. He held out a jar for her, Sophie took it and looked over to Snape for the currency to pay.

"I don't think Dumbledore intended you to waste our school's money on sweets," he said with a sour face.

"I think he'd approve if you let him try one. We always used to offer Dumbledore some of our sweets when we were sent to his office in the middle of lesson," Fred argued.

"For some reason, it always managed to return the twinkle to his eye. Just one lemon drop and we could get away with anything." George supported his brother. They both laughed in reminiscence of good times.

Sophie was about to thank them and leave, not wanting to try Snape's patience any further, when she noticed a group of fluffy pink creatures moving around in a cage. She headed over and tickled one of them through the bars.

"A Pygmy Puff for your young daughter, Sophie. They are ever so cuddly; two galleons or three fifty for a pair." At that opportune moment another Pygmy Puff strolled over for a tickle from Sophie.

"I'll take these two," Sophie replied.

"No you will not," replied Snape behind her. "I draw the line at moving balls of fluff."

"Maggie needs a pet," Sophie retorted. "She used to have a hamster but it died last month; I promised her a new one." Fred and George gave her an encouraging nudge.

"You don't need them both," Snape persisted.

Sophie, for the first time, felt she was winning. "Animals get lonely alone; they need company of their own kind. I see you are not the type to understand the company of an equal," at a tone only the brothers could hear she continued, "I'm yet to see someone else of your kind."

Fred patted her on the back whilst George lifted the pair of Pygmy Puff's out of the cage.

"Is that all, Madam?" Fred asked in a mocking pretentious tone. Sophie nodded, gratefully.

"No U-NO-POO?" George asked, in the same posh voice.

Sophie moved closer to the comedy couple and said in a sly voice, "I would but the only person I can think to give it to already appears to have taken a rather large dosage." The three of them had a snigger at Snape's expense.


End file.
